Kill me with your words
of kindness, abruptly torn.
Starve my soul
of presence, gone.
Deceive, aggrieve,
repent until you’re done.
Then knock on wood,
ere hope shorn.
Belittle love in guile,
Oh! errant knave,
Abstain from pleasures true,
behold the grave.
For want of trust,
belief in price once paid,
confusion lies, bereft
at words unsaid.
Oh, honesty and kindness
where art thou?
Gods lie, distort,
question here and how.
A game of chance,
splendoured by each season,
false deities exposed
to truth and reason.
If truth be told,
expose your soul to me,
no hidden heart
but kindness guarantee.
Should deities redeem
all that they could,
we, mortals, pray and fast,
then knock on wood.
beautifully penned and now I have the tune in my head ‘knock on wood’ 🙂 x
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Now so have I. I hadn’t even thought if that. 😉 x
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Catchy huh? Lol x
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🙂 x
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This rings so true, Anne-Marie. Wavering between trust and doubt, hope and superstition, we bind ourselves in the chains of our own captivity when love and grace is there for the asking. Love this.
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Thanks, Susan. There’s a lot to be said for cutting to the chase and eliminating the extraneous. Glad you liked it. 🙂 x
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